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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383774">Meant to Be</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenCloseToStraight/pseuds/NotEvenCloseToStraight'>NotEvenCloseToStraight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Playlist [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkward Flirting, Based on a song, Deaf Clint Barton, Falconhawk, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Sign Language, Steve Rogers &amp; Sam Wilson Friendship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:13:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383774</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenCloseToStraight/pseuds/NotEvenCloseToStraight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(Previously a KoFi Supporter Fic)</p><p>Clint has been waiting a whole year for Sam to ask him out. </p><p>Turns out Sam has been waiting a whole year just to figure out the best way to tell Clint how much he loves him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton/Sam Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Playlist [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1462534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Meant to Be</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>{Based on my current obsession of </em>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDo0H8Fm7d0">
    <em>
      <strong>THIS SONG,</strong>
    </em>
  </a>
  <em> I ended up listening to it on repeat for an embarrassing amount of time yesterday. Couldn't get reluctant!Clint and reassuring!Sam out of my head for it, so here we go!}</em>
</p><p>***********</p><p>“Clint, you’re killing me.” Sam slowed down to take a turn onto a dirt road, slouched down further in the drivers seat and blew out a deep breath. “Long drives down dirt roads are supposed to be romantic and shit, take a load off and relax.” </p><p>“The only way I’d ever relax with <em>you </em>driving is if you were somehow unconscious and Stark was piloting the car through his AI.” Clint retorted, and cinched his seat belt a little tighter. “I was there with you and Steve last week, remember?” </p><p>“Okay but to be fair--” Sam grinned and Clint muffled a groan. “--to be fair, most of Cap’s driving experience involved stealing things from bad guys and then <em>throwing </em>those things at bad guys. He had to learn real driving at some point.” </p><p>“Maybe the next time you try to teach Ye Olde Centenarian out for driving lessons, you make sure it’s not during rush hour and not uh--” Clint pursed his lips, drummed his fingers on his thigh uncomfortably. “--not when we were supposed to be heading out for a date.” </p><p>“...that’s why you’re all stiff.” Sam realized slowly. “Cos we were gonna go for dinner and Stars and Gripes needed a driving lesson. What, you think I ditched everything with you to help Steve out?” </p><p>“You’re his number two.” Clint pointed out and Sam sputtered, “Is that your way of callin’ me a piece of shit?!” </p><p>“What?” <em>Damn it</em>, Clint didn’t want to laugh but he had to anyway. “No, that’s not what I was doing but now I sorta want to. Piece of shit. Ruining my date cos Cap can’t drive.” </p><p>“I guess I deserve that.” Sam flexed his fingers on the wheel and cleared his throat. “But listen. Steve only comes first when it’s time to suit up, alright? Not uh-- not any other time. Not when it’s time for this. For us.” </p><p>“There isn’t an <em>us</em>, Sam.” Clint shifted sideways, closer to his own door. “There’s one botched date and what’s turning out to be a pretty awkward drive. I waited a whole damn year for you to ask me out and--” </p><p>“--you’ve been waiting a <em>year</em>?!” </p><p>“-- and after all that, I still came in second to Steve.” Clint shrugged like it hadn’t hurt right to his core to see Sam so selflessly give up their long planned evening to help out a desperate friend heading out on a first date of his own--</p><p>--aw <em>hell</em>, Sam was such a good guy he’d forfeit his own date just to make sure Steve managed to have a half decent one for the first time in seventy years?</p><p>
  <em>Clint was mad about the wrong thing.</em>
</p><p>“What’s that look for?” Sam wanted to know, and Clint grumbled, “I’m trying to be pissed at you for screwing up our first date, but I just realized you’re such a decent guy that you’d rather mess up <em>your </em>date than see a friend mess up theirs.” </p><p>“I am a pretty decent guy.” Sam allowed, and smiled when Clint just huffed at him. “But also an asshole for not thinking about how it felt to you. Sorry, babe.” </p><p>“Feel like maybe you haven’t earned the right to call me babe, yet.” Clint snarked. “But uh-- maybe don’t cut it out either.” </p><p>“Why don’t you just put your feet right there on my dash and be pretty for a while.” Sam laughed and dropped one hand onto Clint’s thigh. “I don’t actually know where this road goes, so I don’t plan on going real fast. You okay with that?” </p><p>“That sounded less like you were talkin’ about the road and more about where your hand is sitting sort of north of my knee.” Clint decided, but then softer, “Yeah, I’m okay with that.” </p><p>“Good.” Sam fiddled with the radio, turned the lyrics down and the bass <em>up </em>so the vibrations rumbled through the seat and through Clint’s body. “How’s that, feel okay? Sound good?" </p><p>“It really does.” Clint said in surprise. “But I’m wearing my aids so I can hear the lyrics just fine.” </p><p>“I know you're wearing your aids, but you like the bass anyway, right? Cos when your aids are out it’s pretty much all you can feel of the music?”</p><p>“...yes?" </p><p>“Alright then.” Sam hummed thoughtfully and inched his hand a little further <em>north</em>. "Sit back and enjoy the ride, babe."  </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>“You waited a whole <em>year </em>for me to get my shit together and ask you out?” Sam asked later when the road turned east to meander towards the lake. “Why didn’t <em>you </em>just ask me out if you wanted it so bad?” </p><p>“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you? Who says I wanted you at all?” Clint pushed Sam’s hand back down and grinned when Sam made an offended noise. “And c’mon, a lady needs to be pursued. Whatever happened to <em>chivalry</em>?” </p><p>“So you’re the lady in this scenario?” Sam asked, and Clint shot back, “Are you asking if I’m a bottom?” and Sam laughed so hard the truck damn near went off the road. </p><p>“Easy killer, watch your left.” Clint yanked the wheel back into place and flicked at Sam’s knuckles. “Maybe you quit groping me and keep both hands on the wheel.” </p><p>“Both hands on the wheel wouldn’t keep me from staring at you.” Sam's fingers dug into Clint’s thigh just a little bit. “You look good today. Always, I mean. But <em> extra </em>good today. What is it, a new flannel? New booty lifting jeans? Extra tight shirt across your biceps?” </p><p>“I stole the flannel from Tony.” Clint plucked at the worn shirt a few times. “But actually he stole it from me first ages ago so I was just reclaiming what was mine. And I dunno what Nat’s been telling you, but the <em>booty lift</em> is all me and a billion lunges, no magic jeans needed.” </p><p>“Not gonna deny the extra bicep-y shirt?” </p><p>“You’re one to talk.” Clint made a quick sign <em>ridiculous </em>at his face and chuckled. “Did you steal that shirt from Spider-kid or what? It is at least four sizes too small."</p><p>“Call me ridiculous all you want.” Sam repeated the sign, but his eyes were on the road so he missed the way Clint’s jaw dropped. “But you haven’t looked away from the gun show once.” Another quick sign, this one close to his forehead <em>horny </em>and accompanied by a snarky grin. “So which one of us is ridiculous now?” </p><p>Clint was quiet for long enough that Sam finally turned to look over at him. “Oh come on, that was funny <em>and </em>flirty. You can’t expect much more than that outta me on a Sunday afternoon.” </p><p>No answer from the passenger seat and Sam slowed the truck to a near crawl so he could better see Clint and ask, “Hey. What’s wrong?” </p><p>“I waited a year for you to ask me out cos I wasn’t about to put myself out there and be made a fool of again.” Clint said quietly, <em>bluntly </em>and Sam blinked in surprise. </p><p>“Clint--” </p><p>“I’ve had my heart broke more than once by people that didn’t treat me right and no matter whether the break up came quick or after a few not-so-great months, one thing was always an issue.” Clint tapped at his ears, at his hearing aids. “It was hard for them to remember to check I had my aids in and irritating to call for me and me not answer cos I couldn’t see them. <em>Annoying </em>when I signed instead of talked. Inconvenient if I got overwhelmed and needed to turn off or go non verbal for a while. A <em>chore </em>to learn basic signs so they always knew how to talk to me.” </p><p>“<em>Clint</em>.”</p><p>“I don’t want something fake from you.” Clint muttered. “I want something real and I know who you are, Sam. You care about saving the world and pranking the team with Bucky and whether or not the Spider is stealing your lunch. And you work a <em>lot </em>at helping the veterans down at the center, especially the hurt ones, trying to convince them they’re still whole and worthwhile and valid even though they’re damaged.”</p><p>“Hey now—“</p><p>“I’m not one of them, Sam.” Clint was almost whispering now. “I’m not one of those wounded war veterans you take on as projects and karma jobs. And I’m certainly not as important as saving the world. So where does that leave me? As a prank?”</p><p>“You’re not a prank, Clint. I’m sorry about the last date but I <em>swear</em>—“</p><p>“You learned the sign for <em>ridiculous </em>and for <em>horny</em>.” Clint interrupted. “That's like middle schoolers learning all the dirty words in Spanish and not anything else. Don’t do that to me. Don’t learn just enough to communicate the bare amount and make it a joke. This is my <em>life</em>, Sam. This is my every day. If you only want to be part of it enough to crank the bass on the stereo and sign funny words then I don’t want—“</p><p>“Damn it.” Sam skidded the truck into a gravelly turn off at the lake, then threw it in park. “Come here, Clint.”</p><p>“Sam I’m being serious—!”</p><p>“I said come <em>here</em>.” Sam grabbed onto the collar of the reclaimed flannel and yanked Clint halfway across the front seat and right against his mouth for a searing, <em>shut-up</em> sort of kiss. </p><p>“Oh holy shit.” Clint gulped and Sam brushed at his cheek just gently before kissing him one more time. “What um—<em>what</em>?" </p><p>“I need you to not talk and to watch my hands very carefully cos I’m not actually very good at this.” Sam let Clint go, popped his knuckles and shook out his hands and then slowly, painstakingly began to sign—</p><p>
  <em>You not project not prank</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Important like saving the world. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sorry I waited long time </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sorry about first date </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wanted this to be real</em>
</p><p>“What are you doing?” Clint's eyes were wide, bottom lip red where he kept biting it. “Sam?”</p><p>
  <em>Don’t need to go fast </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Enjoy right here </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don’t know where it leads</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But we got time</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Stick together with me</em>
</p><p>Sam hesitated, closed his eyes and mouthed the words a few times, snapped his finger as he tried to remember the speech he’d worked on for literal weeks. </p><p>“Damn it, I know this, I planned it all out, just give me a sec…” he swore under his breath. “Uhhh does it take all the romance out of this moment if I ask you the sign for<em> meant to be</em>?”</p><p>“Are you—“ Clint's gaze dropped to Sam's hands then back up to the dark eyes. “Are you trying to tell me we’re meant to be? Is <em>that </em>what you’re saying?”</p><p>“It’s what I was trying to say, yes.” Sam hesitated. “Not what you wanted to hear? Are my signs all off? I had to learn on the down low cos I didn’t want anyone finding out and ruining the surprise so I watched about a million hours of YouTube videos late at night. I didn’t know there was a difference between American Sign Language and British sign language and there were a bunch of videos on <em>slang </em>sign language and —-<em>mmph</em>!!”</p><p>He shut up when Clint jerked forward and kissed <em>him </em>this time. “Clint?” </p><p>“Meant to be.” Clint signed slowly and clearly so Sam could follow. “How long have you been practicing?”</p><p>“Most of a year.” Sam leaned back in and pressed their lips together, grinning when Clint made a<em> mm-Hmm</em> noise against his mouth. “I wanted you to know I was taking it seriously baby, this isn’t just a few words or about wanting my bass loud. I tweaked the sound system so you can feel the music whether your aids are in or not, learned sign so we can talk even if you are feeling non verbal or non auditory or non— non whatever. I’m <em>here</em>, Clint. And we don’t hafta go fast, we can take our time. If it’s meant to be—“</p><p>“It’ll be.” Clint finished, wound his fingers through Sam’s and set them high up in his leg. “So did you <em>really </em>bring me all the way out here to show me how well you can sign or was there some other way you wanted to prove how good your fingering is?”</p><p>“Oh my god!” Sam <em>shouted </em>with laughter and tugged at Clint until he had a lap full of smiling archer. “Something specific on your mind, Clint?”</p><p>Clint reached behind and fiddled with the bass until it was pounding all around them, a low steady thrum clear through their core. </p><p>“Just lay back and relax Sam. Let’s ride.” </p>
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